Crashing into Love by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Fifteen

Conrad

“Are you sure I won’t look silly?” Callie asks as I stand at her bedroom door with the bundle in my hands – a package wrapped in brown paper.

“There’s no damn way you’ll look silly,” I snarl.

“But you don’t know my size.”

“I checked one of your dresses when I went to work,” I tell her, fighting the urge to grab her shoulders and slam her up against the wall.

This shift was a shorter one, leaving me with plenty of energy buzzing around my body, plenty of heat pulsing inside of me and telling me to claim her. The need is heightened by her pajama shorts creeping up into that tempting spot between her thighs, by her thick gorgeous legs calling out to me.

Her hair flows down to her shoulders, freed from its bun, and I reach forward and sift my fingers through it. “You’re going to look beautiful, Callie. I mean, hell, you always look beautiful. But you’re going to look even more so. Now put the damn dress on. That’s an order.”

A ripple runs through her at my words, the full effect of them crashing into her. She lets out a breathy sigh. I’d kiss her if it wasn’t for the sound of music playing from her mother’s room, just down the hall, and the fact Mrs. Simpkins could walk out at any second.

Her door is open and I don’t relish the idea of her wandering out here as I crush her daughter against the wall, unable to satisfy myself with a simple kiss.

“If you’re sure,” Callie murmurs.

I nod firmly. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She takes the bundle from me, our fingers brushing, sparking a whole world of electricity between us. “I won’t be long.”

I take a step back, nodding.

Part of me roars to stay and watch her change, but then we wouldn’t be able to go to dinner tonight. I’d snap and lose control completely the second she took her clothes off, sinking my hands into those curvy tits, bringing my mouth to her nipples, and sucking until they turn gorgeously hard.

Biting down, I close my eyes, telling myself to calm down even if I know it’s impossible.

“Are you okay?”

I look up to find Mrs. Simpkins standing there. She’s wearing a long denim shirt and jeans, and her hair is tied back.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, and then quickly correct myself. “Janet.”

I remember she asked me to call her that.

“I’m fine. Thank you. Callie’s just getting ready for our date.”

Janet’s face changes at the word date, seems to grow lighter, less weighted-down by her husband’s death. “It’s so wonderful, so good for her, to be able to go out and enjoy herself. I can tell she likes you, but…”

“What?” I ask.

She throws her hands up. “I don’t know who you are. It feels faintly ridiculous to say that because we’ve been staying here and… But I forget things sometimes. I get so consumed with myself. It’s not fair on Callie. It’s not fair on anyone.”

“Mrs…” Goddamn, I need to stop doing that. “Janet, don’t be so hard on yourself. Losing a loved one, especially so suddenly, it’s a hell of a thing. Callie and I only met the other night – the night I came to your apartment. She crashed into my car and I came to sort out the insurance details.”

Janet narrows her eyes at me. “So why, how…”

I swallow. The last thing I expected while waiting for Callie was to have a face-off with her mother, but she deserves to know what’s going on. A man has to always respect his partner’s family.

“Because I wanted her the moment I saw her,” I say, in the most respectful tone I can muster, using the most civilized words I can think of. “I want to be with her. I want to protect her, provide for her. I know it sounds crazy but—”

“It doesn’t sound crazy.” She interrupts me fiercely, stepping forward. “Not even close to crazy. It sounds quite romantic, actually. It sounds exactly how I felt when I saw my husband. Or maybe I’m projecting that – wishing it was how I felt. But it does not sound crazy. Okay.”

She smiles, and it changes her face even more. For a second all the grief drifts away and I see the woman she must’ve been before her husband’s death. My chest aches when I think of Callie dealing with these constant changes, these back-and-forths between the woman her mother used to be and the woman she is now.

“Maybe a little crazy. But as long as you have good intentions with my daughter. That’s all I care about.”

“I do. I swear I do,” I say quickly. “I’d never let anything happen to her. Hell, I wanted to kill that Todd bastard when he busted into the apartment.”

“That apartment…” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’ve let us slip into such a mess.”

“It’s in the past,” I tell her firmly. “You don’t need to worry about it anymore. Neither of you does. You never have to worry about money again.”

She blinks, tears rising in her eyes. I warn myself not to go too far. It’s not my place to offer up the grief counseling. Callie will want to do that, in her own way and in her own time.

“Thank you, Conrad. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

Just say yes when I ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, I almost say, the thought rising from my deep need to claim Callie for life.

But I pull it back at the last moment, somehow reining in my stampeding want, my need.

“You don’t need to,” I tell her instead. “We want the same thing. The best for Callie.”

“Why are my ears burning, huh?” Callie says, causing us to turn.

Janet and I gasp at the same time, as we take in the sight of Callie in the dress.

It’s a pale gold color, with little jewels along the fringe. It’s not too short, cutting just above her knees, and her cleavage is hidden behind more subtle fabric. But it hugs her just close enough to set alight the need inside of me, my primal desire mixing with my admiration of her elegance.

“Do I look stupid?” she murmurs.

“No, no.” I pause. “No. You look perfect, Callie.”

“So pretty, so beautiful,” Janet whispers. “Oh, I’ve never seen you in such a wonderful dress.”

“Really?” Her face is bright under the force of the compliments. “You mean it?”

“Yes,” I say huskily. “You look incredible.”

It’s the most truth I can let out when her mother is standing right there. If I told Callie how she’s really making me feel, how bone-deep my need for her goes – how fucking soul deep – my desire would gallop ahead of my reason. My predator’s hands would lash out and grab onto her shoulders, sinking into the glittering gold frills, and shove her up against the wall.

I swallow a big ball of want, turning away.

“Shall we go?” I ask, finding it difficult to even think about looking at her.

She nods and lets out a shaky breath. “Yes, if you’re ready? Jeez, this is crazy. I can’t believe we’re actually going on a date.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I snarl, unable to withhold the passion flurrying through my voice. I snap my gaze to her, even if I know it’s a mistake, even if the second I lay eyes on her again my manhood turns rock solid. “You deserve to go on a thousand dates, a million. You deserve to be taken care of every day for the rest of your life and…”

I stop the onrushing stampede of my lust, somehow battering it down, laughing away the roaring lust.

Even if there’s nothing funny about it.

“You deserve the world,” I say.

I turn to find Janet staring at us, tears glimmering in her eyes. Callie moves forward and extends a hand.

“I’m fine,” her mother says quickly. “Sorry, it’s just… I can feel the affection between the two of you. I know you only met recently. But for what it’s worth – if it’s worth anything – you have my blessing.”

Callie rushes to her mother, smoothing her hand around her shoulder and hugging her close. “Of course it’s worth something, Mom,” she says. “Your blessing is important to me. I’m glad you approve.”

Janet closes her eyes and sinks into the embrace, leaving Callie to look up at me with a soft smile on her lips. Our eyes meet and communicate silently, a thousand unspoken messages shimmering between us.

And then she almost says it, almost blurts it out.

I love you.

Before I met my Callie, I would’ve thought it was impossible to read a woman so intimately, to be able to look at her and know exactly what she’s thinking.

But there’s something about the way her eyes glimmer in this moment, something about the way her full flushed cheeks turn crimson.

She was going to say it, but she stopped herself.

Thunder ripples through me.

Iwant to say it, I realize. Because it’s the truth.

How is that possible?

I’ve known her for a few days, but I love her. I fucking love her.

I bite it back, as the thought slams into me that perhaps I misread her glance, perhaps I’m projecting things that aren’t there. I can’t ruin this before it has a chance to properly begin.

I need to wait…

Until what?

I don’t know, but I need to wait because if I ruin this by coming on too eagerly I’ll never be able to forgive myself.